Shisha with Sjoekje

"Do you like shisha?" texted Alice's friend Sjoekje. In California for L's spring break, I was driving to Sjoekje's house, super-excited for a nighttime catch-up.

"I don't know what shisha is?" I tapped back at a stoplight.

"Hookah."

"Oh! I tried that in Armenia," I wrote. "Apple flavor."

"Double apple OK?" read my phone screen. "Also have white peach. Putting coals on now."

White peach smoke sounded right up Alice's alley. So did "double" apple. Why would she settle for single apple?

Sjoekje had instructed me to come inside when I arrived, because her friends would be rehearsing for a gig, and she wouldn't hear me knocking.

Doing as told, I walked up to Sjoekje's quintessential California home: swaying palm trees in the front, red terracotta roof, 3-car garage. I walked inside. When she turned to see me, we opened our arms and gave each other a big, tight hug. One like I'd never felt before. I didn't want to let her go. She wasn't quick to let me go either. We embraced for two solid minutes, a long-ass time compared to your typical bear squeeze. In her, I could feel Alice's essence. I wanted that feeling forever. I heard Sjoekje sniffle, and I tried not to whimper too loud. When we finally let go, we both had wet cheeks. Like I'd said once about Iris, seemed like Sjoekje and I were Alice for each other.

Soon Vicki appeared and the party started. That white peach smoke smelled delicious! So did the apple. Er, double apple.

In the photo above, there's space on the couch to the left of Vicki. That's room for Alice, whose spirit kept the festivities going well past midnight.